The Storyteller
by fluffymallow1279
Summary: Gilbert Bielschmidt is living a life with an abusive father, an unsupportive family, and a major crush on a Canadian girl who works at the Christian orphanage he tells stories at. Will he be able to find love in such a broken world? And will this girl return his love? [WARNING] There is child abuse, talk and thoughts about suicide, and attemted suicide, so please don't get offended


**This ****_will_**** have some child abuse, suicide thoughts/attempt, and talking of suicide in it later on, so you have been warned. I'm not sure if I want to continue this or not. I probably will. Oh well. **

**This is mainly a hetero PruCan fic, but there will be hints of AusHun, Spamano, and Gerita later. Please give feedback and enjoy :3**

**Tutsia: Liechtenstein**

**Gilbert: Prussia**

**Madeline: Fem!Canada**

* * *

"And that's when he saw her. The most beautiful mare he had ever seen," I said dramatically, smiling at the gasps and sounds of awe coming from the girls I was telling the story to. A young blonde haired girl in the front raised her hand. "Yes?" I pointed to her.

"What sort of horse was it, Gilbert?" she asked, her deep light green eyes glowing with curiosity. She was my favorite. Her name was Tutsia. A strange name for a girl, I know, but she was adorable. Due to her young age of about 7 or 8, she had a cute little button nose and dimples to go with her almost constant smile. A small and very faint batch of freckles sat across the bridge of her nose and scattered her round cheeks. She had very bright blonde hair that always seemed to bounce and flow with her movements, despite being above her shoulders. She always had a purple ribbon in her hair, though I never knew why or where she got it from. No green could compare to the color of her gorgeous orbs she calls eyes. They're much better than my demonic red eyes. It was a shame Tutsia always had to wear the clothes that the sisters gave her at the orphanage. A cute pink dress would've looked lovely on her.

"It was a brown and white paint, Tutsi-roll," I called her by the nickname I gave her when she was just barely crawling, making her giggle cutely. "She had a white mane and tail with feathers and beads pinned into them." The girls fidgeted excitedly, trying hard to hold in their sounds of glee but not doing a very good job. Sister Elizaveta, the nun who was supervising, put her finger up to her lips and made a 'shush' sound.

Sister Elizaveta, or 'Lizzy' as I like to call her, was amazingly pretty. She had long brown hair that when she let down, reached her mid-back. But she almost always had it tied back loosely as a low ponytail. On the rare occasion that she did let her hair down, she would always put a flower in it. Her eyes were such a beautiful shade of green that you would've thought someone took her eyes out and replaced them with smooth, dark emeralds. Though, her eyes always seemed to hold some sort of sadness. No one ever did notice, but I always did. Every time I saw her I would say "What's the troubles, Lizzy?" and she would reply with "Now is not the time." She never did tell me what was eating at her.

"Now girls," Lizzy started. "We mustn't be rude to our guest. We shall not interrupt him."

"Shucks, Miss Lizzy, they were bothering me or anything. They can make all the sounds they want to! I know my stories can be a bit too awesome, to handle, like me, so there's no need to stay quiet." I winked at the girls, chuckling at their blushes and squeals. Lizzy smiled and nodded for me to continue, though I could tell she wasn't the least bit happy and very irritated with the younger females.

"Anyways," I said. "The stallion was tied to the mare with a rope by the Native American. He sent the two horses off to go explore the land, making sure they didn't go too far." Just then, the church bell rang and all the girls grumbled sadly in unison.

"Girls," Elizaveta sighed. "You know Gilbert will be back tomorrow, so don't pout in such ways! The Lord tells us we mustn't be selfish." The girls tried weakly to smile through their annoyance.

"You know," I knelt to grab Tutsia's hand because she was pouting the most, but I still spoke to all the children. "That brave stallion wouldn't want any of you frowning like that. Pretty Mädchen like yourselves should smile all of the time, it's the prettiest thing on you." The girls giggled.

Tutsia wrapped her little arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. "I'm going to miss you Gilly…" she mumbled sadly. "I wish I had a family to go home to like you to each day…" I could tell by the way her voice cracked as she said the second sentence that she was on the brink of tears.

"Tutsi-roll," I said comfortingly. I pulled back and held on to her shoulders so she would look at me, her deep eyes staring into my hurt lifeless ones as she sniffled. "Trust me. You don't know what my father's like. Hon, I would much rather have no parents at all than have to go home to my Vater."

"R-really?" she asked as she rubbed her eye.

"Really really." I answered. I kissed her forehead and she laughed softly, her pinks lips upturning into a smile. "There's that pretty little grin!" I stood up and helped Tutsia back to the group, staying behind and watching them leave. Lizzy sighed and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Gott, Lizzy!" I practically yelled. "You just about gave me a heart attack!"

She chuckled. "Well maybe that will shock your heart enough to wake up that empty brain of yours!" Lizzy teased, poking my head for emphasis. She thought that because she was older, she could just pick fun off the fact that I dropped out of school in the 4th grade.

"I'm not stupid!" I said in defense. "I know very well how to read and write! And I bet you I could have your dress handed to you in a story telling competition." I stuck my tongue out at her to get my point across.

Lizzy scoffed. "The only thing good up in that hollow head of yours is fishing, singing, and imagination."

"You know you like the awesome me!" I boasted.

"As if you need the ego boost!"

We just stood there and laughed. Lizzy and I had a long history together, though neither of us talked about it. We usually kept the past in the past as much as we could. Her stuck-up aristocratic boyfriend also liked to keep the past behind him, so we never had a problem with him.

Just then, a young blonde girl with pigtails in her hair and glasses on her nose that so badly needed to be pushed up ran in the room. As if reading my mind, the girl pushed her glasses up and fixed the maple leaf hairpin in her mussed up hair. She stopped in front of up and panted heavily. "Sis-Sister Elizaveta…!" she somehow managed to get out through her heavy breathing. I couldn't very well see her face since she was doubled over and trying to catch her breath.

"I told you, Madeline, call me Lizzy!" Elizaveta told the disheveled other.

The blonde shook her head and straightened up, giving me a good look at her features. She had a lightly dusted pink blush across her face from the running. Her eyes were so gorgeous; I never knew anyone's eyes could be such a stunning shade of violet like hers were. Her glasses only magnified the beauty of her eyes as the frame of them sat on her small soft nose. I felt something inside me spark. I had never wanted to meet someone so badly in my entire life than that moment.

"I'm sorry, Sister Elizaveta! It's just more formal when I refer to you as 'Sister Elizaveta' than 'Lizzy'." She said, shaking her head and making her pigtails bounce ever so slightly. They weren't curled, but they weren't straight either, nor were they wavy. They were perfect. She turned to me and all at once I started to think of every single one of my flaws, making me feel ever so insecure and blush. "I'm sorry, sir, but have we met before? I don't believe I've met your acquaintance."

"O-oh, uhm, I-I'm Gilbert B-Bielschmidt." I stuttered back lamely. God, why was I so stupid? That went a whole lot smoother in my head…

"I'm Sister Madeline Williams, though Sister Eli- I mean, Lizzy over here calls me 'Maddie'." She answered, smiling brightly. I felt my palms go sweaty and my head fuzz at just how cute she was. What was this feeling? I had never felt it before. It was gross. But…. I wanted more of it. I felt like I wanted to hug that girl and call her mine. Was this….. Love? I didn't like it. I wanted so much of it at the same time, though.

"_Madeline? That is the most beautiful name I have ever heard. But, I guess someone with a face as beautiful as yours deserves a name to match?"_

"M-Madeline? Th-that's a p-pretty name!" I stammered. I immediately and internally face-palmed. '_That's a pretty name?! What am I, 5?!_' I scolded myself.

Madeline giggled adorably. "Thank you, Gilbert!" she chirped. My heart skipped a beat as she said my name. "I really would love to stay with you and chat some more, but Elizaveta and I need to get going.

"I-I understand! Don't worry! I sh-should probably be g-getting home soon, too auf Wiedersehen, Lizzy, and goodbye, Maddie." I replied, walking towards the front doors as the girls walked the other way. I really shouldn't have turned around. I really, really shouldn't have. But I did. And I would have to have said, Maddie had a rather cute butt.

I shook my head, trying to get certain thoughts out of my head. I needed to get home, or else my Vater would be mad.

* * *

It was cold outside of the orphanage, yet I still walked home alone. I wrapped my tan arms around my chest and abdomen, shivering slightly. I really didn't like how I look.

I normally just wore a pair of shorts and a shirt, since I didn't really have any other clothes. My dad never went out of the house and my mom died long ago, so all the money I made went into feeding my siblings and trying to pay the bills so we could keep the house. My skin was pale, despite staying outside fishing so much to get food on the table. The ugly silvery-white, tangled mop of messiness on top of my head could hardly be called hair. It never went the way I wanted it to, so I just let it do its own kind of thing.

After the hour long walk of silence -with the exception of the wind and the crunching sound the red and orange leaves made under my sneakers as I walked along the nearly deserted road –I finally arrived at the place where I lived.

"Gilbert Bielschmidt!" I heard my father yell from the living room. Around this time is when he gets stark drunk and watches television. "Where the hell have you been, boy?!"

"Didn't I tell you before I left? I went fishing and then stopped by the orphanage to tell the girls a story or two." I replied nonchalantly, avoiding looking at him.

"We've all been sitting here waiting for you to get back so we can eat!"

Strangely, he believes in 'family dinner time' which pretty much means "hey come sit in here so I can criticize you in every way possible time".

"Well maybe if you got off that couch once in a while and got a job, you wouldn't have to go hungry…" I mumbled to myself, rolling my eyes.

I picked up a jacket that was lying on the floor and put it on the coat rack that sits by the door. The old wood of the rack made a creaking sound of resistance from the heavy cloth. We didn't get very nice stuff at the house, mainly because the only money we ever got was the money I made from fishing.

"Well," my father hollered irritably. "Are you gonna make dinner or let us all starve to death here?"

"I'm getting there, just give me a minute. I'm only 16; I'm not a professional athlete." I answered.

"Are you back-sassing me, Gilbert?"

'_Oh god please no,_' I pleaded in my head. '_No, not again, please!_' judging by the dark gleam in my father's eyes and the way he was taking off his belt as he got up from his spot on the sofa, I was in for another beating. A harsh one at that.


End file.
